A Life Worth Living
by Ella Ynrihan
Summary: A mysterious woman, strange dreams, Shooter, Doritos, another chance at love, and much more that is instore for Mort Rainey. A sixyearafterfact story. If you like Romance, this is going to be a good one.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a Secret Window fic. I will try to spell names of places correctly, but bear with me if I don't and try to help me out. So here it is, A Life Worth Living.

Mort Rainey snored loudly in his little cabin on the lake. He laid comfortably on his couch, in his robe, his glass pushed up to his face making a mark and crumbled Dorito Bags at his feet. Books and magazines were piled neatly, gathering dust, along with many other things which hadn't been touched in a long time. The rain pelted against the windows loudly as the rain moved in closer to the house. This is the way it had been for the past six years for Morton Rainey.

Mort stirred as his mind went into a dream had been coming more often for the last six months, waking Shooter and his Voice of Reason (AN1) from their sleep. It was always the same one. A woman around the age of maybe twenty-five laid on a familiar looking bed, wearing a long gothic looking black dress, sleeping peacefully and silently. Her arm always laid off the left side of the bed, and her black hair hanging in her face gave her a mysterious look to her. With the sight of her, Mort could tell she probably had the most amazing eyes and the most beautiful smile that one would ever see. But just as the dream would come into focus, a red tone would come to the dream, and Mort would awaken, breaking into a cold sweat. He knew what a red tone in a dream meant. (AN2)

"What are ye screamin' bout, Pilgrim?" Shooter rasped in a sleepy but angry tone. He had been woken as well.

"Shut-up, Shooter." Mort muttered. He threw off his robe and shirt, making his way to the disheveled kitchen, stumbling all the way. He reached into the old refrigerator and grabbed for a 7UP can and a bag Doritos. Shooter groaned. About three years ago, Mort had given up the all corn diet and resumed his junk diet which had served him well since he and Amy had divorced. Of course, Shooter didn't approve, but after three years straight of only corn, Mort couldn't give a damn.

Mort grumbled in reply. After slamming his can down on the coffee table, he dug in the bag of chips, making them go all over the floor. Not caring in the least he shoved the rest into his mouth.

"How can you eat this shit?" Shooter shuddered looking at the cheesy triangle-shaped chips.

"The same way I ate that shit you called vegetables. And that's what it was. Shit"

Shooter sighed, boredly. "Can't you just do what I ask for once?"

"Because, what have you ever done for me?"

"I saved ya from pain and suffering. Also because I'm about to give you something you have wanted for the past six years."

Mort spit the food out of his mouth, trying to comprehend what Shooter had just said. What did Shooter think he wanted?

"Well, Mort, I know that you have been alone for six years. Even I know what it is like to not have comfort of living company. In fact, that's why I have fixed that."

"What nonsense has been made by you, Shooter?"

Shooter smirked an evil smirk. "I got ya a girl. She's goin' to be yours."

"WHAT?" The back door opened and then slammed shut. Mort glanced towards the door and ducked into the kitchen, watching the person enter through the doorway.

"You'll see what this is about, soon enough."

_**Earlier…**_

Celia ran through the woods. The rain was starting, and there was nowhere to run, but she had to try. Her long, curly black hair was coming undone by the second and turning into a wet, sopping mess. Her brown cowboy boots splashed into the mud. She cursed under her breath seeing them slosh with very wet mud and her jeans not blue, but now a dark red-brown.

She pulled her denim jacket over head trying to save her head from extreme wetness, but she was not having much avail. She cringed and sat under a tree hearing thunder from afar. Lightening lit the sky. Celia shivered from the cold.

Then, she noticed it. There was a very old looking cabin hidden behind the trees. A wild corn field grew on the side of the house. _It looks like a place where a horror writer might live_, she thought, coincidently, looking at the dark shutters and the dark clouds that were starting to surround it.

_This is all I have at the moment. I guess it will have to do until the storm passes._ She hurried over through the bur filled lawn, limping the entire way with the burs digging into her skin. The sun had now set making it hard for her to see, but she managed to get into the old cabin. The door slammed shut behind her, curtsy of the wind outside.

She looked over the cabin. A light was on at the top of the stairs. Dust covered most of the furniture and shelves, but residue of food, along with other things had shown someone had been in the old cabin recently. She slowly made her way to the top of the old stairs, the stairs creaking all the way. She turned to the right as she came to the top of the stairs, heading straight into a bedroom which was covered with dust. Everything seemed so old, as if no one had touched it in years. Also for some reason, Celia felt watched, but she had no idea why, because no one seemed to be around.

_There is no where to go. It's too dark to go home and too late to go on. I have to stay here for the night. _Celia shuddered. There was something she definitely did not like about this house. She slid on to the dust covered bed, and patted the dust away, so she could lie down. After pushing enough dust away, she pulled off her wet jacket, jeans and boots, and slipped under the sheets and covers, soon falling asleep when her head touched the pillow.

_**Mort's Point of View**_

Mort watched the woman, asleep in his old bed. This sight was so familiar, like the dream. Her wet black hair lay in her face, and she lay on her stomach with her arm hanging off the side of the bed. Mort looked her over, remembering the dream so vaguely.

"You pleased with her? The same one from your dream, too, Pilgrim."

"Shooter, how-"

"It's amazin' what a man can do with limited resources. Amazin' what can happen when a woman has amnesia as well. Amazin' thing is I'm lettin' ya go near a woman again."

"What do you mean amnesia?"

"You'll see in time Mort, you'll see."

(AN1) That is what I refer to as the voice other than Shooter in Mort's head. In the stories I have read that is what he is called, so that's what I'm calling him, too.

(AN2) A red tone in a dream means death. If it is the main color or tinted red, it most definitely death. This has to do with the legend "Red Death". (If you have seen Phantom of the Opera, think about the costume the Phantom/Erik was wearing during the Masquerade. He wore the costume for "Red Death".)


	2. Chapter 2

I guess everyone liked the story so far, so I'm continuing. Keep up the reviews and I will keep up the chapters, okay? I'm just really enjoying myself with this fanfic.

_**Mort's Point of View**_

Mort had gotten up early the next morning, and still it stormed. He slowly made his way up the stairs to check on his guest who had come in the middle of the night. What had really come strange to him over the past few hours was how he had already knew about the woman before she had even come close to the cabin.

"_I was wondering when you would ask that, Pilgrim. You really want to know?"_ Shooter was awake, apparently.

"Yes."

"_You were reading the paper about seven months ago when I came across this article about this family that had been killed, all except for this one woman, the oldest daughter. She had been put unconscious, and did not remember what had happened anytime before the hospital. They had also included the picture of the woman. Unfortunately for her, you were attracted to her, and because of you, so was I. So I came up with this plan, see? At night, I would sneak into the hospital while you were asleep and she was asleep, to talk to her. I told her everything and anything. I also whispered things to her to bring her here. Amazing how well it worked, especially since it usually doesn't work, but when a person has amnesia you can feed them thoughts while they sleep. So I told her when to come, but it also helped, making her think that someone was trying to kill her."_

For some reason, this made Mort angry. "What did you do to her?"

"_I set a few 'props' to mess with her head and I left her dead cat in her bed."_

"YOU BASTARD! WHY DID YOU DO IT? ARE YOU MAD? IS THAT IT?"

"_Had to bring her somehow. This was the only way, Mort. She is going to stay. I'll make sure of it."_

"You can't make her stay here! She doesn't deserve to stay with an insane man who believes there is another man inside of him who kills people and animals! She doesn't deserve to be held against her will! She is human, god damn it!"

"_I told you, Pilgrim. She belongs to you now. So you might as well get to know her, and she will be staying, cause if you don't make her stay, I will."_

Mort sighed. Shooter always kept his word, especially when it came to threats of death, or anything violent. Mort would have to do what he said, or 'she' was going to die in the process.

Mort had soon made it to his old bedroom, where the woman had slept that night. Her hair still lay in her face, and she held her strange way of sleeping. The only difference from last night was she was now not under the covers. Her green shirt that read "Green Day" covered most of her body, but the area from her knees down.

He touched her shoulder, shaking her back and forth. He inhaled sharply hearing her stir, and backed away from the bed, not to scare her as she woke up.

_**Celia's POV**_

Celia slowly turned over, and started to open eyes. Everything was blurry as it came into focus. Soon the image of a man with blond-brown hair, gentle brown eyes, and large thick glasses came into view. No matter how gentle his eyes were, he looked mad or to put it better, somewhat crazy. Well, maybe it was his hair that made look this way because of the way it was 'styled', but Celia was not sure.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to barge in! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm –"

The man put his hand over her mouth and shushed at her. "It is all right. I know why you are here. Just relax while I make breakfast. Please? There are some of my ex's clothes in the closet that you can put on. You look around the same size." The man motioned to the closet in the corner. Celia watched the strange man walk out of the room and disappear down the stairs.

Celia shivered, feeling a draft got through the cabin from the rough winds of outside. She slowly got out of the bed, and headed toward the closet in the corner of the room. The closet had quite a bit of a selection of clothes. She pulled out a white tank top, a plaid red flannel shirt, bell bottom blue jeans, and black boots. She soon headed to the bathroom which was right next to the closet.

She showered, and dressed. Then, after noticing hair scrunchies that laid in the cabinet, she tied her hair to the back of her head. After she had finished, she slowly made her way down the stairs were food was laid on the table. The man who had woken her up earlier was nowhere to be found. She slowly sat at the table and looked at the food which was there. Oranges, apples, and pears were arranged in a bowl. Eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes were piled high.

Mort's POV

Mort watched her dig into the food on the table from behind the other entrance in the kitchen under the stairs. She ate hungrily, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "When did you have time to make this, Shooter?"

"_Amazing what a man can due while the other sleeps."_

"I didn't know you, well, I could cook."

"_Many things you don't know about me or yourself. Shame about that. Now, you are going to charm her, today, Mort."_

"Why so soon? What is the hurry? She just got here!"

"_Cause I said so. That is why. After all, I can make you life a living hell whenever I feel like it. So ye do as I say."_

"Fine, fine." Mort came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. The woman looked up from her food and gave a look of welcome.

"I don't know your name, and you have been in my house for over seven hours." Mort started to help himself to the food. She put her fork down and took along drink of water from the glass in front of her.

"My name is Celia Jones and I'm from New York City. I was house sitting for some family. The reason why I came here was I just got caught in the rain on my way to the…um,…store."

"Of course. Not a problem. Happens to the best of us. The name's Morton Rainey, Mort to most people."

"Nice to meet you, Mort." She shook his hand. "So, when will the rain stop? It seems that it hasn't slowed since I ended up here."

"Weather man says that it is going to be this way for another two days, but you won't be able to go after that, because the lake will have been over flown. Amazing how many times that happens every year."

Celia's eyes widened. "What do you mean here? You mean I have to stay here?"

"Unless you want to drown, which is highly likely in this rain. Is it a problem?"

Celia's POV

"Unless you want to drown, which is highly likely in this rain. Is it a problem?"

_Oh shit, not good. 'He' might be after me still. He is going to kill me if I stay, but I might be safe here._

"No, it's not a problem at all. I was just hoping I could get out of here soon so I could, uh…feed the cat."

_What am I going to do? I will have to wait this out. Simple as that. If he comes, I can defend myself, right?_


	3. Chapter 3

Another chapter! Yay! I hope everyone's doing well. It will be another week or two before I get Internet at my house, but that's cool. I'll just post in the library. Also, I have this camp thing coming up and I don't know if I will have a computer in the dorm, so if I don't update for a few weeks, you'll know why. Also, I finally made a website! Take a look at it!

Mort's POV

Mort looked over at Celia. She was biting down softly on her lip and twirling around some loose hair around her finger, as if she was deep in thought. It was if she had never heard a thing he said.

"Celia, are you alright?"

Celia looked at Mort, finally snapping out of her trance. She dropped the hair from her fingers, and put her hand at her chin, as she leaned on the table.

"Fine, just fine. I just lost my train of thought."

Mort left it at that. He knew she was hiding the fact that she thought his other half was trying to kill her, but not realizing his other half was not a true human. Or maybe it was just the fact that she thought someone was trying to finish the job that was done on her parents, brothers, and sister.

Celia's POV…Later that day

Celia looked up from her book that she had been reading all afternoon. It was one of Mort's books and not to say it wasn't a good book, but a woman could only take so much blood and guts after breakfast.

She on the couch behind Mort's desk and Mort, who was busily typing away at his laptop and rock music blasting through his head phones. She couldn't make out who was playing, but at least it was something.

Her mind was still preoccupied that the 'he' was coming after her to finish the job he hadn't done so long ago. Then she heard a loud thump. It was after all just a loud "thump", but it was the way it sounded that made her skin creep. It had sounded like a corpse fall.

"Mort! I heard something!" Celia pulled off Mort's head phones, surprising him completely.

"What the hell is it?" Celia jumped back. Mort looked back at her puzzled. "Did I scare you? Sorry, about that. You caught me off guard. Now, what is it?"

The loud "thump" sounded again. This time, Mort heard it too. "Mort, what is that?"

"I don't know but I have a pretty good idea what." Mort slowly went over to his room and into the bathroom. Celia could hear some insane like laughter.

"Mort, are you ok in there? Mort?"

She could see the bathroom door was closed. She tried the knob. Locked.

"Mort? Can you hear me? Mort! Is someone there?"

Something kept thumping against the door over and over, faster and faster. Celia banged on the door, calling Mort's name, over and over, screeching louder and louder. The door swung open, making Celia jump back on to the bed.

Mort came out, scratching his head in apprehension. "Celia? What's the matter?"

"I…um…I thought something was wrong. The door was locked, and that thumping, I just-"

"Celia, I want you to meet a friend of mine. I just got her about two years back. Found her in my garbage, the poor mutt. She ran off a few days ago, but the weird thing is how she got on the second floor of the house, and in the bathroom nonetheless. Celia, meet Abby."

A chocolate lab-mix walked out from behind the shower curtain. She wagged her tail in a friendly way, and panted as she made her way over to Celia. Celia slowly reached out her hand and patted the dog on the head. Abby gave a panting, dog smile that all dogs gave when they were pet. Celia gave a small giggle.

Just suddenly, Mort grabbed her arm hard. Celia could feel a bruise forming where he held her.

"Mort, let go, you're hurting me."

Still, he held on giving her an angry stare, almost inhuman.

"Mort, let go!" She shuddered. Something did not feel right.

"Mort, damn it, let go!"

Abby barked furiously, as if she sensed something also. She let out a low growl, showing her white, sharp teeth. Mort looked over at the dog, completely ignoring Celia. Celia slammed her boot down hard on Mort's foot. He cursed loudly in pain, and his facial expression went back to normal. Abby stopped growling, and licked the hand that had let go of Celia's arm.

Mort took his hand away, quickly, and soon left the room, leaving a confused look upon Celia's face. There was something about this man that she knew she had to figure out. Something was wrong, and she was not the only one who knew that.


End file.
